By The Fire
by invisiblemirage
Summary: A short little Captain Widow fluff piece. One shot.


"Some books make my angry." Natasha complained, leaning back on the couch. The book she had in her hands dropped lazily to the floor, still open to the wrong page. She put her feet up on Steve's legs. Staring at him silently, she waited for him to respond.

"Then what makes you read them?" He smirked at her, closing his book to look her full on. She looked nice today, he noted. Color was lovely to see on her. He would never complain about her classic Black Widow outfit, no, but he liked when she wore that dark, almost forest green shirt. It made her eyes shine and her red hair pop. She looked like something off of a magazine.

He looked away again before she caught him staring.

"Steve," she sighed. "I didn't buy it thinking it would make me angry. I bought it thinking, 'hmm, that looks like fun. I'd like to read that.'"

"Of course you did." Steve replied. "What do you hate about it?"

Natasha picked it up from the floor, turning it over in her hand to study the back cover. "I liked the author's other books." she said. "I liked his style. But this one… it feels over the top. Ridiculous. These characters… they're so self absorbed. They wouldn't know about real pain if it hit them between the eyes."

With a sigh, Natasha put the book on the end table. Steve had gotten her into reading lately. She had never really enjoyed books before, probably because the only ones she had been able to read were based on fighting and tactics and strategy. Steve had showed her a whole new world when he loaned her one of his favorite books.

She had been surprised when he had handed her the French classic The Three Musketeers. She had leafed through it a bit the first night. Certainly Captain America's favorite book had to be something, well, american, right? The thought made her laugh. He was entitled to like any book of his choosing.

She began the story the next evening, instantly taken by the rich history and the tale of the spunky D'artagnan. She had seen several movie adaptations already, and so kept a visual picture of the actors in each role as she read. It had become apparent quite quickly one should never judge a book by its movie. There was many notable differences; in some cases she was not even sure the screen writers had read the original- it seemed they had only glanced at it.

Natasha finished the book swiftly, handing it back to Steve a mere three days later with a cocky half smile.

"Finished!" she said with the excitement of a proud child.

"You liked it?" he grinned.

She nodded. "I really did. I didn't know books could be fun."

"My dear, you have so much to learn." Steve said, looping his arm around her as they walked.

Back across the couch, Steve was still peering at Natasha while pretending to read. She had picked the book up again, determined to finish it. She had one bright red curl hanging loose from her ponytail. Her nail polish, red as her lipstick, was chipped in places. She turned a page and he saw her groan silently, no doubt upset with the characters.

"You don't have to finish it." he murmured gently.

She glared at him. "You know that I do."

She hated leaving things unfinished. Steve admired that about Natasha. She left nothing undone. He turned back to his book, determined to let her read in peace without his eyes sneaking glances at his pretty girlfriend.

When her shoulders started shaking, he looked back up. "What's wrong?"

Her hand was clapped over her mouth and her eyes were wide. He was afraid she had been crying. "Tasha?"

The hand came away allowing laughter to spill out. "I'm sorry." she said. "I can't believe I'm letting myself get so worked up about people who don't exist."

Steve chuckled. "You are so cute." He was lucky. He was the only one who was allowed to call her cute without getting threatened. It was a privilege he did not over use.

He leaned forward and kissed her, unable to resist. Her soft lips brushed against his with the delicacy of a spring breeze. As soon as they parted, she came back for more. The spring breeze turned into a summer storm as she kissed him passionately, breaking away after a minute. Steve wanted her back instantly.

"Thanks." she said.

Steve tilted his head.

"For getting me into books." she explained. "I like when we go out. I like when we fight along side each other. But I like this, too. Curling up on the couch by the fire with you and a good book… it's cozy. And peaceful. And really, really nice. I haven't had a lot of nice."

He kissed her again, sweetly and softly. If her kisses were a summer thunderstorm, his were gentle as a Christmas Eve snowfall. "I'm just glad you like it." he said.

She pushed herself off of the couch. "Want to go shoot something?" she said. "I'm going to cramp up if I stay curled up for too long, no matter how nice sitting with you is."

He recognized the gleam in her eyes and knew she had some energy she needed to burn off. It had been a lazy day for them both, and getting out sounded like a good idea. "Yeah," he nodded. "Let's go."

"Deal."


End file.
